


Welcoming Committee IV

by DarkShadeless



Series: Overseer Sar [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: life is just not fair, overseer Sar's general level of tact, the things Sar has to deal with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:12:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Overseer Sar has an only semi-unexpected visitor.





	Welcoming Committee IV

 

 

Arcann turns up again the next morning, bright and early, like one of those primitive weapons that reverse flight direction to hit you in the head no matter how hard you throw them.

He hovers in the same place he must have last night, at the edge of Sar’s partition, and distracts the Sith enough that the med droid he has been haranguing about a get-out-of-jail card manages to make its escape.

_For kriffs sake._

Now he’ll have to start over with the next one. Or, worse, D-2 might go tattle to nurse Andy and then Sar will have to contend with _her_. He might as well wave his freedom goodbye, they won’t let him out of here for at _least_ another day.

That he’s not sure if he can walk straight without assistance is incidental. He'll manage. Not that anyone will let him lick his wounds in peace.

Case in point.

The wellspring of all his misfortune takes a few determined steps toward his bed, despite the glower aimed his way.  

Sar probably looks like a recovering addict but that’s the bastard’s fault anyhow. He can cope. “What.” There’s neither a question mark attached, nor an apology in sight for what happened yesterday. And there won’t be.

Arcann shifts uneasily, as if he’s debating the merits of making a break for it. In keeping with Sar’s major driving force in life (spite) that decides him on whether or not he wants to deal with this. “Am I going to get a damned answer?”

Perhaps it’s not the best idea to antagonize a walking tank but he’s fresh out of fucks to give and the delivery service has gone on strike. Scared half to death in the middle of the damned night, how _humiliating_. At the rate his reputation is taking hits it’ll be a write-off before he gets up from this kriffing bed.

There’s a curious mix of mild offense and shame on Arcann’s face. “I wished to relay my apologies, for my misstep last night. I did not intend to cause you further distress.”

Distress. Sar is going to show him _distress_. “Pray tell, what did you ‘intend’ by showing up here after visiting hours and creeping on me like a… a _creep_?” _Wait just a damned second._ “Did you watch me sleep?”

The defensive line of Arcann’s shoulders curves slightly. “I was just trying to ascertain the extent of the damage I-“

“By all the little gods you did!” The Sith grapples for a curse dire enough to encompass his indignation and comes up empty handed. Considering his vocabulary that’s saying something. “What the shlurp! Who _does_ that! Did your mother teach you no flarking manners!”

It would have to have been her. The other part of that pairing would have been no help.

… on second thought, that woman procreated with the slime ball they used to call an Emperor. Sar blithely ignores that he would have died in the crank shaft’s service before he turned out to be a _traitor_ moonlighting part-time as planet-eating spirit abomination.

Welp, they had all had a bad run there. Maybe lady Spirit Abomination hadn’t caught it either.

What a depressing train of thought.

At least the appalled outrage his diatribe inspires in the Zakuulan is a small reward for Sar’s suffering. It fills his petty little soul with joy.

You have to take your wins where you can get them.

“I wasn’t- wasn’t-“

“Ticking off boxes in the Stalker 101? If I ask the nurse will there be a call on record that’s nothing but weird breathing?”

“… what?”

Oh, it’s only half the fun if they don’t get just how much he is insulting them. “Never mind that. _Why the kriff were you here_?”

The pause that follows his rather forceful inquiry puts a dent in Sar’s momentum. Inconvenient.

His go-to response to someone kicking up the hornet’s nest that is his self-preservation might be _antagonism_ but that doesn’t mean he has an easy time of keeping it up when he’s down for the count, in all ways that matter.

Force he doesn’t even have his _weaponry_. When Sar catches whomever took his blades off of him he’s going to introduce them to the shiny end.

This is what a mollusc has to feel like without its shell.

Arcann straightens to his full height and makes him suppress a twitch. It’s not a flinch. It _isn’t_. Sith don’t flinch.

“For what transpired between us, you have my regrets.”

Sar waits for the rest of that bit of nonsense. It doesn’t come. When he does nothing but stare blankly for a little too long, the Zakuulan’s resolve starts to shade back into this curious mix of anger and unease.

Huh.

“That was all. I will leave you to your-“

“I was trying to kill you. Granted I was _failing_ , but I’ll have you know I was giving it my all. Why would _you_ apologise?” The man might be a bastard and Sar is not the kind of honourable that won’t gut an intruder unawares but that doesn’t mean he can let this bantha shit stand.

Your nemesis isn’t supposed to try to make up with you after you attempt to cut them to pieces. It makes hating them so _awkward_. Not impossible, see exhibit A, Sar’s grudge match with half the Jedi Order, but awkward.

Though admittedly it helps that those uptight assholes approach every last cease-fire from a point of ‘clearly you are wrong and we’re not’.

His visitor pauses, halfway on the retreat. “No matter our misunderstanding, you came to harm defending your comrade. If you hadn’t I would have done him grievous injury undeserved. For that if nothing else,” Arcann trails off.

Somehow Sar doesn’t get the impression he talks much.

“You know that if I had read my damned mail none of that would’ve happened, right?”

“Still, I wasn’t the one to defuse the situation, despite my best efforts. Rest assured that I will pay my dues to Master Timmns as well.“

And just like that, twisty reverse blame-games are the least on Sar’s mind. “Your best efforts?” The whole battle is hazy, like much of what followed but he remembers one thing in perfect clarity, “You almost broke me in half!”

Arcann looks incredibly caught.

After a moment of disbelieving and very defensive silence Sar sinks into his pillow with a groan. “Oh my _stars_. I got my ass kicked by the worst duellist in the whole _quadrant_.”

Going by the very interesting expression on the Zakuulan’s face he is finally taking umbrage. “ _Excuse me_?”

The stirring of anger has alarm bells shrieking somewhere in the back of the overseer’s head. They go unheard by virtue of practice and a copious amount of professional dismay. “Are you kidding? You fight like a damned avalanche! Don’t you have the first idea on how to tone it down!”

For some reason that question hits Arcann like a knife to the gut. He grows pale.

As Sar watches he blinks himself back to the present. “My f-,” the Zakuulan clears his throat, “I was always left with the impression such was weakness. Useless. I cannot say I’ve bothered to learn the skill. It’s… harder than I would expect.”

There’s a vulnerability to the admission a Sith knows better than to show to an enemy. If they know how they’ll stick a vibro blade in you more quickly than you can blink.

Sar can’t say it’s on purpose but as such things sometimes go, he does it regardless of intention. “Well, _of course_. You call it aim! Is your master a moron? Why would control be _useless_?”

There’s a flash of dismay on Arcann’s face. He swallows heavily. “I’ve never looked at it that way.”

By how choked he sounds he wishes he hadn’t found that point of view, either.

Sar’s almost sure it’s a relief for both of them when the healer finally comes and puts his foot down about him needing ‘rest’.

Sometimes getting that hit in you’ve been angling for isn’t as satisfying as it should be.

 

 


End file.
